text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
" See, how resistless Orators perswade,
Draw out their Forces, and the Heart invade:
Touch ev'ry Spring and Movement of the Soul,
This Appetite excite, and That controul.
Their pow'rful Voice can flying Troops arrest,
Confirm the weak, and melt th' obdurate Breast;
Chace from the sad their melancholly Air,
Sooth Discontent, and solace anxious Care.
When threat'ning Tides of Rage and Anger rise,
Usurp the Throne, and Reason's Sway despise,
When in the Seats of Life this Tempest reigns,
Beats thro' the Heart, and drives along the Veins,
See, Eloquence with Force perswasive binds
The restless Waves, and charms the warring Winds:
Resistless bids tumultuous Uproar cease,
Recals the Calm, and gives the Bosom Peace.
(VII, ll. 354-369, pp. 332-3)",2013-08-07 14:06:53 UTC,"""When threat'ning Tides of Rage and Anger rise, / Usurp the Throne, and Reason's Sway despise, / When in the Seats of Life this Tempest reigns, / Beats thro' the Heart, and drives along the Veins, / See, Eloquence with Force perswasive binds / The restless Waves, and charms the warring Winds: Resistless bids tumultuous Uproar cease, / Recals the Calm, and gives the Bosom Peace.""",2004-07-15 00:00:00 UTC,Book VII,"",,Throne,"•I've included four times: Weather, Liquid, Government, Rule and Subjection",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),10751,4167
"But, alas! who can hope to be wise as they ought,
When the evils of life taint the progress of thought?
Like a snow-ball, the mind, fraught with peace in its prime,
Moves swiftly adown the steep shelvings of Time;
Accumulates filth from Society's sons,
And strengthens and hardens its coat as it runs;
Till habit on habit is negligent laid,
And the object appears motley, vile, and ill-made;
At last, when its indirect wanderings are o'er,
And the sated despoiler can gather no more,
The form lies repos'd at the base of the hill,
A globular concrete of good and of ill;
As its worth has been mix'd with the radix of woe,
And the dirt of the valley has sullied the snow.
(Third Part, Mrs. Pope, pp. 202-3, ll. 423-436) ",2014-03-14 14:50:16 UTC,"""Like a snow-ball, the mind, fraught with peace in its prime, / Moves swiftly adown the steep shelvings of Time; / Accumulates filth from Society's sons, / And strengthens and hardens its coat as it runs; / Till habit on habit is negligent laid, / And the object appears motley, vile, and ill-made; / At last, when its indirect wanderings are o'er, / And the sated despoiler can gather no more, / The form lies repos'd at the base of the hill, / A globular concrete of good and of ill; / As its worth has been mix'd with the radix of woe, / And the dirt of the valley has sullied the snow.""",2011-09-13 19:49:23 UTC,"Third Part, Mrs. Pope","",,Introduction,Crazy simile! INTEREST,"Searching ""ball"" in HDIS (Poetry)",19154,5658
"Around his Bed dire Apparitions walk'd,
And Stygian Terrours thro' the Apartment stalk'd.
Then starting up and leaping from his Bed,
Thus to himself the restless Monarch said.
What Tragic Scenes before my eyes appear,
What inward Whips my tortur'd Bowels tear?
Fierce Vipers twist their Spires about my Heart,
And Bite, and Sting, and Wound with deadly smart.
With more than Atlas weight my Soul's opprest,
And raging Tempests beat along my breast:
Corroding Flames eat thro' my burning veins,
And all within I feel Infernal Pains.
As oft as Arthur has my Troops assail'd,
His Arms by Heav'n assisted have prevail'd.
The Victor of our Out-works is possest,
He next Lutetia from our hands will wrest
Must Gallia 's Empire fall by Arthur 's Sword,
And Clotar 's house obey a British Lord?
Must Tributary Gallia be condemn'd
To serve a Prince which I so much contemn'd?
Forbid it all ye Gods, that such a Fate
Should e'er befall the high Lutetian State.
If Heav'n will not assist, I'll try if Hell,
Will from these Gates the British King repel.
(Bk XII, p. 316, ll. 24-47)",2013-07-02 19:14:29 UTC,"""What inward Whips my tortur'd Bowels tear? / Fierce Vipers twist their Spires about my Heart, / And Bite, and Sting, and Wound with deadly smart. / With more than Atlas weight my Soul's opprest, / And raging Tempests beat along my breast: / Corroding Flames eat thro' my burning veins, / And all within I feel Infernal Pains.""",2013-07-02 19:14:29 UTC,Book XII,"",,Animals,"",C-H Lion,21439,3938